Way of the Warrior
by Nevermore
Summary: The sequel to 'The Becoming': As her alter-ego Justice, Max metes out punishment against the guilty; but how will Logan and Max's friends take to the dark changes in her personality? (Complete)
1. Way of the Warrior, Prologue

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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Author's Note: This is a sequel to my earlier story, 'The Becoming,' and part of what I currently am planning as a three-part series. That part is still up in the air, as I'm not certain whether a) I'll ever finish the series, and b) whether, if it is in fact finished, it can be done in as little as three episodes. Whether the series continues past this story or not, I assure you that the plot threads of this fic will be wrapped up, so you won't really ever be missing anything. I hope you enjoy. Oh, and please take a few seconds to review. It'll not only be appreciated, but as this is a work in progress, you might have an impact on where this story goes. The opportunity for such interactive reading and writing should be kinda fun, I think.

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Way of the Warrior

by

Nevermore

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Prologue

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Now the reason the enlightened prince and the wise general conquer the enemy whenever they move and their achievements surpass those of ordinary men is foreknowledge. – Sun Tzu, The Art of War.

A shadow skipped from one rooftop to another, seemingly unconcerned with the four- to five-story fall that awaited at the slightest misstep. No noise accompanied its movements, and not a single citizen of Seattle would even have expected that such an individual existed. Swathed in black, covered with a ninja outfit and a heavy black cloak that billowed around her, Max raced across town with an acute sense of urgency, hoping she would arrive at her destination before it was too late. She had an important appointment to keep, and did not want to even consider the consequences if she missed what might be her one and only opportunity.

After almost a full half-hour of moving at a sprint, Max arrived at her destination – Murray's Liquor. She scanned the alley on the north side of the building, her genetically modified eyes picking out two shapes that, to the average onlooker, would likely go as unnoticed as she herself would. _Seems they know what's good for them,_ she mused silently. _They were smart enough to wait around for me._

Max moved across to stand directly above the two men in the alley, and then jumped from the roof, falling twenty feet and touching down with as much grace as any human possibly could. Her sudden appearance caught the two men by surprise.

"What the hell?" the shorter man asked. His long, stringy blonde hair shook almost as much as the rest of his body as Max glared at him.

"Hello, Dave," Max said, her voice sounding almost as if she was snarling. She looked over Dave and his friend, and noted with joy the look of fear in their eyes. Max knew she looked scarier than she ever would if these two men had run into her during her Jam Pony days. Max was well aware of the reputation she was slowly developing with the city's lowest tier of criminals – they feared her, more than they feared the police, and almost as much as they feared their own superiors. In the case of Dave and his friend, Francis, not even their superiors frightened them as much as Max did. That was how she was able to get information.

"H-h-hi," Dave stammered. "W-where did you come from?"

"Where is he staying right now?" Max asked, avoiding any pleasantries. She had no desire to be friendly with Dave. He was a small-time drug dealer, mostly working with pot, x, and glow, and under most circumstances he would be worthy of nothing more than a thorough beating. However, Dave also happened to be the brother of one of Cameron Dean's chemists. He knew where Dean's constantly moving labs were located, and more importantly, he was reportedly able to say where Cameron Dean himself would be staying every time he moved. Max wanted that information. Badly.

"Can't we discuss price first?" Dave's friend asked.

"Shut up Francis," Max spat.

"Don't ever call me that," Francis said, his face becoming absolutely pouty. "My name's Tex."

"You're name's gonna be 'Guy Missing a Few Teeth' if you don't shut up," Max growled. She then turned a dark, menacing stare on Dave. "Where is he?"

"What's in it for me?" Dave asked. "I mean, what's to stop you from taking the information and just walking away?"

"The same thing that's to keep me from beating you half to death and taking back the money after you give me the information," Max shot back. "You have my word. If that's not good enough for you, I guess I could forego allowing you to serve your sentence through a plea bargain, and go directly to administrative punishment."

"No, I'll tell you," Dave said, cowering back a few steps in fear. Max was well aware that Dave had heard of Administrative Punishment, the sentence that she carried out on most of the street level criminals that she had encountered thus far. Several broken bones were generally involved, and one minor, permanent injury was usually meted out. Usually Max decided to leave her victims with a limp. The threat of such treatment was more than enough to get information out of most people.

"So?" Max asked.

"He's in a new apartment on Pine," Dave said, obviously reluctant to give any specifics. "I'll give you the whole address when you give me my money."

"Fine," Max muttered, reaching into her pocket. She knew she could easily beat the address out of her newest informant, but that would serve no true purpose. She would very likely want more information from Dave in the future. By paying him and leaving his fragile body intact, she gained someone who would know in the future that she could be trusted to keep her word. This reputation would get around, and eventually she would be able to get information out of other small-time hoods. Then administrative punishment would move up the criminal food chain to the next level of criminal, while the small fries became a large pool of informants. Then the process would begin all over again, as a whole new group of people learned the price of crime, and the benefits that could be gained by working with Justice.

She handed over a small wad of bills, and Dave took a moment to count the money. Once he was satisfied he turned a rather suspicious looking stare in Max's direction. She began to wonder whether her new toadie was considering double-crossing her already. "The address is 86 Pine Street," Dave finally said. "The building used to be some fancy-ass hotel or something, but Norton Koch bought the building and gutted it shortly before you whacked him."

"I didn't kill Norton Koch," Max replied evenly.

"Sure ya didn't," Tex put in, his tone making it plain that he did not believe a word of Max's denial. Her only further response was to turn an intimidating stare in Dave's sidekick's direction, and Tex immediately began to whither under the scrutiny.

"I'm taking a big chance by trusting you, Dave," Max muttered. "There are worse fates than administrative punishment. If you're leading me astray with this information, I advise you take this last opportunity to set things right. Because if you're sending me into a trap, I can guarantee this – the authorities might find your body... eventually... but I doubt they'll ever be able to identify it with any certainty."

"I-I-I-I'm bein' straight with y-ya," Dave stammered, obviously believing every word of Max's heartfelt threat.

"Fine," Max spat. "Now get your ass in motion and clear out of here. I'll be in touch." Without another word, Dave and Tex hurried out of the alley, neither one speaking to the other until they were well out of earshot for even Max's heightened senses. She smiled with satisfaction at how easily she had frightened them into submission. _Two hundred dollars,_ she thought with amusement. _They just gave up their employer for only two hundred dollars. If every other petty criminal turns as easily, it's gonna be cake to bring this city under control. And the best thing is, it didn't really cost me a dime._ She was satisfied with her process of using the cash she had lifted from another drug dealer the night before to pay for information on a higher level criminal.

_It looks like the cat is gonna have a chance to swipe at the mouse,_ Max thought with pleasure. She had been waiting for her chance to get Cameron Dean. Now it seemed she'd finally be able to take him out, and she was willing to use any means, no matter how violent, to achieve her goals. Justice would punish the guilty.

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To be continued........................


	2. Way of the Warrior, Part 1

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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I

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Now the elements of the art of war are first, measurement of space; second, estimation of quantities; third, calculations; fourth, comparisons; and fifth, chances of victory. – Sun Tzu, The Art of War.

Max impatiently knocked on Logan's door a second time, wondering what was taking so long to get an answer. An instant later, the door opened and she came face to face with Bling.

"Impatient much, are we?" he asked with a grin.

"I just hate waiting," Max muttered in reply. Bling stepped out of the doorway, and Max walked right on by, hardly waiting for Bling to move completely out of her way. "Logan?" Max called out. "Where are you?"

"Back here," he called in answer. "I'm in the computer room." Max walked back and found Logan preparing his equipment for one of his Eyes Only broadcasts.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were busy saving the world again," Max commented. "I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

"I'll just be a couple of minutes," Logan apologized, obviously starting to hurry so that he could get his broadcast over with and spend time with his guest. While he was busy on the air, Max began to scramble a couple of eggs and toast a bagel. By the time Logan had emerged from the computer room, Max was biting into an egg and cheese bagel sandwich while finishing brewing some coffee for her and Bling.

"I would have made some coffee for you, too," she apologized to Logan, "But Bling said you're cutting back."

"Yeah, that's what he says," Logan complained. "He thinks I have to cut back on the caffeine."

"Oh Bling, that's cruel," Max said dramatically. "You're going to force Eyes Only into caffeine withdrawal? What ever will befall our fair city?"

"I think Seattle will do just fine," Bling said with a smile. "I have some work to do in the back," he added pointedly, looking over both Max and Logan. "Just leave the coffee in the pot. I'll come out and get it in a little bit." Max smiled at Bling's back as he walked out of the room, and then turned her bright eyes on Logan.

"So to what do we owe the honor?" Logan asked, looking at his watch. "I would have thought you'd be at work."

"I quit Jam Pony," Max said absently. "It just didn't do it for me anymore."

"It didn't do it for you?" Logan responded. "So may I ask how you're getting by?"

"I do odd jobs here and there," Max replied evasively. Logan's brow furrowed and Max could only smile. _There he goes getting all concerned about me again,_ she realized. _That's so cute._

"Are you stealing?" Logan asked bluntly.

"I'm doing odd jobs here and there," Max repeated. "I think I'm going to make a few good investments and let my money work for me, rather than the other way around," she added. "Just like you do." Max could tell that Logan was deciding whether to push the issue, to try to pin her down to find out exactly what she had been up to. She hoped that he left well enough alone.

"Let me know if you need any investment tips," Logan finally said. Max released a slight sigh of relief as she realized her friend was delaying the inevitable conversation for at least a short while longer. _Any time it buys me is a welcome reprieve,_ she thought. She did not want to lie about her activities to Logan, but she also knew he would likely never understand.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I do need a little information," Max said. "It's not about my investments, though, of which I have none." Logan smiled slightly, and Max eased her guard a slight bit more.

"What do you need?"

"Well, I've heard a lot of stuff lately," Max commented. "Lots of the small fries are talking about some guy who calls himself Justice or something. You know anything about that?"

"I've heard a few rumors," Logan admitted, "but there isn't much consistency to them. Why do you ask?"

"No reason in particular," Max said evenly, putting just the right tone in her voice to let Logan think there was something that was being left unsaid. _Of course, that's exactly my point. He already thinks I've gone back to being a thief. Now he hears me asking about a vigilante. He'll put the two bits of information together and come to the conclusion that I'm concerned about getting pinned down by this guy. As long as he thinks that, he's not going to take the leap of logic that it's me out there roughing people up under the name of Justice._

"Just be careful out there, ok?" Logan asked, his concern evident in his voice.

"Of course," Max replied, satisfied that she had gotten Logan's thoughts to end up exactly where she had wanted them. _Now to start pumping him for some info..._ "So, I also heard another little tidbit," Max said as she opened the refrigerator and reached in for some orange juice. _And where in the hell does he always get fresh orange juice?_ she wondered. _I just **have** to find his supplier._

"What else did you hear?" Logan asked expectantly. _He already senses another story for Eyes Only,_ she realized. _He's even cuter trying to save the world than he is when he's just trying to save me._

"Well, you remember about a month ago when we helped take down Norton Koch?" Max asked. Logan only nodded in response. "Well, I heard one of his cronies took over."

"Yeah, his name's Cameron Dean," Logan said. "Koch apparently had a run in with this same vigilante, Justice. Most of his guys got killed, but Dean took over the operation. He knew all of Koch's contacts and had just enough money to hire more muscle to replace the losses. He's actually #2 on my hit list."

"Your 'hit list?' " Max asked with a smile. "Did I just hear you say that you have a hit list?" Her amusement was written plainly on her face, and even Logan broke into a wide grin at her teasing.

"Well, journalistically speaking," Logan explained. "I just have my own version of a Top Ten Most Wanted."

"That's so cute," Max commented.

"Why do you have to be like that?" Logan asked. "This is very serious work."

"Of course it is," Max replied, suppressing a feigned laugh. _There, now he's completely at ease with me again,_ she decided. _Now to get the really important info._

"So is there anything you want me to find out about this guy?" she asked.

"Not quite yet," Logan answered. "Dean's apparently been busy recruiting cops, but he's not just using payoffs. He's also killed a couple of them that refused to play ball."

"You mean there are honest cops in this city?" Max asked, completely seriously.

"Yes, Max, there are still a few honest cops," Logan said. "Unfortunately, Cameron Dean wants to limit that number as much as possible. The only thing is that every time he kills one of them, some of the corrupt ones become a little less willing to work with him. The ones that get pissed off sometimes sell some of their information."

"So they're like double agents?" Max asked. "Wow, you even got the whole spy versus spy, cloak and dagger thing goin', don't ya?"

"It's a little more serious than you make it sound, but yes," Logan admitted.

"So how much do we know?"

"**We**?" Logan asked. "Last time I heard, you were only working with me because you wanted me to find your siblings. You saying that you'll consider working with me because you want to do it for its own sake?"

"I'm doing it because you're my friend, Logan," Max said, wondering even as she said the words whether or not she was lying. _Well, I guess that's one reason,_ she rationalized to herself. _Sure, he's one of my best sources of info, so making him believe I'm on board with this crusade of his in definitely in my best interests, but I really do want to help him because he's my friend. I like seeing him happy._

"Thank you," Logan said.

"Don't mention it," Max said coolly. "We don't have to make this into a conversation worthy of one of those old Hallmark cards or anything. I'm just saying I want to help you. So what do you know?"

"Not a whole lot," Logan said. "It seems Dean has dumped some areas of Koch's old criminal empire, streamlining it, so to speak. He got rid of the extortion, gambling, and industrial espionage, though he's stayed with drugs, gun running, and slavery. Of course, he's also had quite a few murders committed in order to get everything to run right."

"And this guy is only #2 on your hit list?" Max asked. "Who the hell is worse than this?"

"Councilman Gates," Logan replied. "He's been robbing the city blind, and he's also had some good men killed to clear the way for his crimes. From his position of authority he's been able to adversely affect every single citizen in the city."

"Ok, I guess he's definitely a bad guy," Max said. She still did not think a corrupt politician should be considered worse than Cameron Dean, but she kept her opinion to herself. _That's the beauty of this situation, anyway,_ she mused. _Logan knows about this Gates guy and all the white-collar stuff that he does. Eyes Only is in a position to take care of that effectively enough, but less so to do anything about Cameron Dean. That's where Justice comes in. I can pick up where Logan leaves off and eliminate the really vile people._ "So you think you can get Gates?" she asked.

"Well, I just released some really nasty information about him just five minutes ago," Logan explained, revealing the reason for his latest Eyes Only broadcast. "We'll see what happens. If the police need more, I'll get it."

"And then we can deal with Dean," Max continued. "So who comes after him?"

"You want the whole list?" Logan asked. "We may never be able to finish off them all."

"No harm in aiming high," Max answered. "Fine, I'll look no farther ahead than Dean. So how many guys you think he's got?"

"You mean hired muscle?" Logan asked.

"Yeah," Max replied. "I mean, when you're gonna need someone to break into someplace for ya, you're gonna call me, right? I might as well find out now how hard I should start training."

"About forty soldiers, from what I can figure," Logan said with an uneasy expression. "The best of them are ex-military, just like with Koch," he continued. "I don't think there's many of those guys, though... maybe a half-dozen or so. I think he's using them primarily as his personal guards."

"Makes sense," Max commented. _Forty guys, with only a handful having been trained enough to give me any problems... Of course, since they have no idea who I am, I'll always be able to control the time and place of any confrontations. Then again, as I'll almost always be attacking on their turf, they'll have the advantage of defense. _She stood silently for a moment in though, smiling absently in Logan's direction, trying to make sure he would not guess what was going through her mind. _Ok, this should be alright. I can do this._

"Well, I'm gonna get going," Max said suddenly, turning to leave.

"You just got here," Logan replied.

"Well, I have to meet Original Cindy and the gang at Crash tonight," Max answered. _And before then, I have to take out one of Cameron Dean's warehouses,_ she added silently. _I have a bit to do if I want to still have time to do my hair and look presentable when I go out._

"Any chance you'll be stopping by again, soon?" he asked.

"I'll come by tomorrow," Max said absently as she walked to the door. "See ya." She walked out without bothering to look back at Logan's confused face.

"See ya," he said to the closed door.

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To be continued.............................


	3. Way of the Warrior, Part 2

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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Author's Note: The scene you are about to read is not what I had planned, but I received some helpful feedback from Brynn McK that led me to rethink my direction. I think that her advice will help round out the character of Justice, so I want to take a moment to thank her for her input. She is the goddess of constructive criticism.

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II

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The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. – Edmund Burke

Once Max had gone, Logan started pondering everything she had said. He found it disturbing that this vigilante, Justice, was beginning to make a name for himself amongst the street level criminals. _Of course, it makes sense, though,_ he admitted. He knew that anyone that was serious about making a difference would first have to develop one hell of a reputation. Fear would make a valuable ally for a vigilante.

_If he's that bad a person, though, Max could be in danger,_ Logan thought. Despite her avoidance of the issue, he was certain that Max was once again participating in the same type of larcenous activities that had allowed the two of them to meet in the first place. He cracked a slight smile as he thought back to that night she had broken into his apartment, at how unconcerned she had seemed at having been discovered. Logan had initially thought Max was just another overly smug thief. Now, however, he was probably more impressed with her than even she was with herself. _Then again, I see her in a completely different light._

Despite his desire to get into his work, Logan found himself pondering Max for several minutes. _There's just something different about her lately,_ he decided. _Her attitude is tougher, and she seems less interested in spending time with me. Then she up and quits her job..._ Logan knew it was common for people in their late teens to act somewhat erratic as they searched for their role in the world, and tried to chalk up Max's recent behavior to natural teen angst. _In fact, forget normal angst. I can hardly imagine what someone with her background would be thinking._ Logan thought back to his own youth and remembered some of the confusion he had felt, and tried to convince himself that he should give Max more slack. The last thing she would want is people worrying about her or giving her advice.

With a little bit of effort, Logan pushed thoughts of Max from his mind and focused on his work as he went over to his computer and punched up his information on the vigilante. As many of his criminal sources had recently started to dry up for unknown reasons, all he knew was what his police sources had been able to provide to him. In the last two weeks, seven criminals had been arrested with significant injuries. The first time Logan had looked into the matter, it had been because he suspected police brutality had been on the rise once again. Then his informants on the force told him the truth – someone was finally taking the law into his own hands. With the ineptitude and corruption of the Seattle Police Department, it had been inevitable.

Switching into his Eyes Only mindset, Logan picked up the phone and dialed the number of one of his newest police contacts. He would once again try to help someone in the city, but this time it would be more personal than usual – he would help Max. As long as she was out on the streets, committing thefts, she was at risk of encountering Justice. While he was confident that she could take care of herself in most situations, in regards to this vigilante, he had his doubts. Being a journalist, he had learned to follow his gut, and his gut was telling him that only a truly superior person could undertake the task that Justice had. Logan had gotten another hunch, and this one said that Seattle's vigilante might be someone akin to Max. He might not be Manticore, but Logan suspected he was possibly some other unknown experiment gone awry, likely with a military background.

"Hello, Seattle Police," a voice said on the other end of the line.

"I need to speak with Detective Lane. Tell him Logan Cale is calling."

"One moment, please," the operator replied.

_Of course, I'm probably being paranoid,_ Logan admitted to himself. _As if there would have been other projects similar to Manticore, either in this country or any other. Besides, if it is Manticore, what are the chances that another escapee would set up shop in Seattle? It's tactically foolish, as having two subjects in one city would certainly attract Lydecker that much more._ As the silence continued on the other end of the line, he pondered what it was that was truly bothering him. _It's because of the way I feel about the girl,_ he admitted. _This Justice guy isn't really another super soldier. I'm just immediately jumping to the worst possible conclusion, because I'm scared that something bad could happen to Max. I've simply allowed myself to become too emotionally involved in what should only be a professional relationship. I can't believe I was so care-_

"Hello, Logan?" Detective Lane asked from the other end. "What's up?"

"Not much, Harry," Logan answered. "It's just that I've heard some rumors about this vigilante the criminals call Justice."

"And?"

"And Eyes Only has started to take an interest," Logan replied. "People going out there enforcing the law are almost as much of a problem as the cops that don't."

"I know," Lane said. "The commissioner has established a special unit to start looking into the matter."

"Let me guess, someone is starting to feel too much pressure from this guy," Logan quipped. "Leave it to the commissioner not to get involved until one of his sources of extra income feels it's time."

"I wouldn't know about any of that," Lane said evasively. "All I know is that two men are primarily being targeted by Justice. The first is a new player, Cameron Dean. The second is one of your favorite old criminal personalities, Trevor Sloan."

"What else do you know?"

"Not a whole helluva lot. We don't even have a solid description yet. Some say the guy dresses up like Batman, cape and all. Others say it isn't a cape, but a cloak. Either way, everyone agrees that he wears black. Also, we're not even entirely sure it's a 'he.' One guy said it was a 'she.' "

"Really?"

"Yeah, but everyone else says it was definitely a guy. We've heard that he's anywhere from about 5'8" to as large as 7' tall, though."

"Great," Logan muttered. "That covers just about ninety percent of the males in the city." He could not see how he was getting anywhere with the conversation. "Thanks, Harry."

"You don't have to thank me," Harry said. "Just put in a good word for me to Eyes Only. And don't let him forget that there are a lot of us out here that believe in what he's doing."

"He'll be glad to hear it," Logan said. "Take it easy." He then hung up the phone and returned to his thoughts. _Seven feet tall?_ he wondered. _Would Max be able to defend herself against someone that large? Sure, she's strong, but she'd be giving up so much weight in a fight. If someone that big ever got his hands on her, I don't know if she'd be strong enough to escape his grasp before he beat her to death._

Logan shook his head, trying to chase his concerns from his mind. _You're obsessing, Logan_, he told himself. _Max is a big girl, she can take care of herself. Don't sit here worrying. Just try to make sure you do something that could help her out._

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To be continued.............................


	4. Way of the Warrior, Part 3

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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III

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Arms are my ornaments, warfare my repose. – Miguel de Cervantes,Don Quixote.

Max's body was a blur of motion as she went through one of the training programs from her days back with Manticore. She hated the memories these exercises dredged up within her, but she also accepted the fact that she knew no other way to prepare. _I have enemies, and I have to take them out,_ she thought grimly as her feet went through the familiar routine. _I don't have time to relearn all of my skills. What I know will simply have to suffice._

Her right leg shot out in a flurry of kicks, and then, spinning in midair, she sent a kick with her left, directly into the center of an imagined foe's forehead. A thin smile appeared on her face as she moved, reminding herself of the strategies she would need in an encounter with superior numbers. _Strike first, and make sure the target is put out of the fight immediately,_ she reminded herself, hearing the haunting voice of Lydecker as she recalled the lessons he had taught her so long ago. Max shook her head, trying to chase away the voice that had tormented her for so long. She no longer feared Lydecker, but just the thought of him was unwanted. It was simply easier to forget he had ever existed.

_I cannot allow a foe with superior numbers to get organized to face me,_ Max knew. Even her transgenic modifications would not help her if a half dozen men with automatic weapons were able to corner her. She suddenly stopped and looked across the room at the two pistols hanging on the wall. If Lydecker caused discomfort, firearms caused true agitation. Before Rory had come to Seattle, it had been years since Max had used a firearm. When she had been forced to use one again, in the interest of tactical efficiency, she had done so reluctantly. Max had never expected the thrill she had gotten from it.

The reaction had frightened her, and since the raid on Koch's home she had refrained from shooting anyone, although she reluctantly carried a pistol with her when she went to work. She told herself that she had it only 'just in case,' but sometimes she wondered whether she was trying to rationalize her desire to use a weapon she knew would make her even stronger.

_Of course, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be strong,_ she told herself. _My enemies will use every weapon they can get their hands on in order to gain an advantage. Is it so wrong for me to want to do the same?_ She decided to end her physical training routine and ponder the question. Max knew what Logan would say – she should never lower herself to her enemies' level. _He's fighting a different kind of battle, though,_ she reminded herself. _It's all fine and good for Logan to take the moral high ground while he's sitting up in his ivory tower, but I'm out there on the streets, fighting these guys on their own terms. It'll only frighten them that much more to have a foe that doesn't play by the normal good-guy rules._

Max sat on the floor in lotus position and tried to clear her mind. During one of her conversations with Rory, she had been introduced to the meditation philosophy of one of the sects of Zen Buddhism. This sect espoused the belief that true mental discipline came from clearing one's mind of all thought. After all, anyone could think. It took a truly disciplined individual to stop the mind's natural process. The idea had been a favored one of medieval Japanese samurai, as it latched on to the aspect of their bushido that demanded rigid discipline. Just as it had with the samurai, the idea had found favor with Rory and then Max.

_Maybe it's also because Lydecker taught us to always think about our situation,_ Max pondered as she slowly relaxed. _Always be aware of your surroundings, always keep your mind going, formulating minor adjustments to your strategies so as to keep one step ahead of the enemy,_ she remembered Lydecker repeating over and over. _Your mind only stops thinking when you're dead._ A thin smile formed on her face as she pondered what Lydecker would say if he ever discovered that Max was purposely clearing her mind, in opposition to one of his greatest training principles. The thought was more amusing than Max could believe.

_Amusing, yes, but still distracting,_ she thought, chastising herself. She had yet to achieve complete peace and absence of thought, and ruminating on how much her new training techniques would piss off her former mentor was not going to help her achieve her goal. _Of course, the whole catch to this meditation thing is that the realization that you have cleared your mind is itself a thought, and destroys the exercise,_ Rory had warned her, trying to impress upon her just how difficult the training could be.

_But if I can achieve that level of discipline, I can defeat anyone,_ Max told herself once again. She redoubled her efforts and focused on nothingness, hoping that perhaps this would be the time when she would achieve the seemingly impossible goal of non-thought. If nothing else, she hoped clearing her mind and relaxing would help her in her upcoming assault against Cameron Dean's newest drug production facility. She knew it would be heavily guarded, and would provide quite a challenge. _I just hope everything I picked up from Lydecker, Zack, and Rory is enough to prepare me for what comes next. Otherwise, I might not be able to meet up with everyone at Crash later on._

To be continued.............................


	5. Way of the Warrior, Part 4

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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IV

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Men are seldom born brave but they acquire courage through training and discipline - a handful of men inured to war proceed to certain victory; while on the contrary numerous armies of raw and undisciplined troops are but multitudes of men dragged to the slaughter. – Vegetius

As Max gazed through her binoculars at Cameron Dean's warehouse, she focused her efforts on restraining any of the panic she knew most rational individuals would feel. She had already made out eight guards on the outside of the building – one on each corner of the warehouse's roof, and an additional four walking the perimeter. She was just about to begin moving toward the target when she caught sight of a new challenge – dogs. _I hate guard dogs,_ she cursed silently. Max had always suspected that on some level, dogs knew she was not entirely human. Be it her scent, her attitude, or something more intangible, guard dogs had never been easy to avoid. They detected her immediately, and would always raise an alarm. While she also had an uncanny knack for intimidating dogs into silence as soon as she got up close, that would not help her keep them quiet until she closed the distance and got within arm's reach. A host of things could go wrong in the seconds that would take.

_And of course each of the two dogs is being led by another sentry,_ she noted. _That takes the total number of guards up to ten. I'm so not in the mood for this..._

Clearing her mind of her discomfort, Max continued to watch the guards, trying to detect any particular routine to their movements. She quickly decided that the randomness of their behavior was either the product of years of experience, or its polar opposite – the absolute lack of discipline. Max could only hope it was the latter.

She began to move toward the structure, taking steps that did not make any sound to her superhumanly perceptive ears. She figured that would be enough to prevent the dogs from at least hearing her approach. Max knew that it would only be moments before guards would start realizing something was wrong. She simply needed to close the distance as quickly as possible, so that she would at least retain the advantage of surprise. Max spent none of her precious time reflecting on how this type of action was different than anything she had been doing for years. For so long she had only been breaking into buildings in order to steal. It was an entirely different type of activity, with the ultimate goal being to get in and back out before anyone knew she was there. This time she would not be leaving until the people inside had been punished for their crimes. More likely than not, she knew, several individuals were about to die. _Serves them right,_ she decided callously. _They had a choice, and they chose poorly. The underbelly of Seattle is gonna have to learn the price of working for Cameron Dean._

She ran as quickly as she could from the tree line that had been offering her cover, reaching the side of the building before anyone was the wiser. _So far, so good._ She kept her back against the exterior wall, sidestepping so as to keep herself as unnoticeable as possible. There was a guard leaning against a car only ten feet away, but he appeared to have no clue that he was not alone in the darkness. Max left the side of the building and stalked toward him, wrapping her right hand around his head as soon as she got within reach. A quick snap of the neck was all it took to remove one of the six guards on the perimeter.

Max then began to consider the situation, and reluctantly decided that her best chance lay in using the nine-millimeter handgun concealed in the small of her back. Her face grimaced with the realization, but Max shook off the thought. _I came this far,_ she decided. _If I do this half-ass, I'll probably get myself killed._ A deep breath followed as she calmed her nerves, and a moment later she was pulling a small cube of C-4 from a pocket on her thigh. Within seconds she had attached a small primary explosive and a timer, which she set for one minute. She was then racing back toward the side of the building, and scaling the side by shimmying up a drainpipe.

_Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen,_ Max quietly counted off as she reached the roof. Timing was everything, and she knew she was right on schedule. All the guards on the roof every got as a warning that they were not alone was a blur of blackness moving against the dark background of the night sky. Each of the four sentries were dead, one with a snapped neck and the other three with gunshot wounds in the center of their foreheads. The silenced, subsonic rounds from the pistol had done their job, and Max was now one and a half seconds ahead of schedule. She could only smile at the result of her handiwork. She ran toward the opposite side of the building and jumped into the air just as the C-4 exploded behind her, igniting the car's fuel tank in a blaze of fire. With her diversion created on the opposite side of the warehouse, Max found it all too easy to incapacitate the one guard she encountered below and creep into the building unseen.

Upon entering she found exactly what she had been expecting. The large, open area was full of trays, beakers, Bunsen burners, and assorted bagfulls of pills. Three men in boxer shorts worked inside, with two men armed with AK-47's also present. Not surprisingly, everyone was facing the opposite direction when she entered.

"Well, what do we have here?" Max asked the group. Rather than wait for an answer, however, she dashed first at the armed guards, knocking one unconscious with a palm strike to the head, and killing the other painfully with a chop to his throat, crushing his trachea and causing him to slowly, but silently, suffocate.

The other three men were still standing dumbstruck, watching her do her work. The first offered no resistance as Max dashed up and caved in his sternum with a punch in his torso. The second had just seemed to realize what was going on when Max reached him, drawing a knife from beneath her tunic and leaving a paper-thin cut across the man's throat. She did not bother to wait, though, to see the look in the man's eyes that betrayed the knowledge that he was only moments from death, his life's blood flowing from the open wound. By that point, Max had already grabbed a hold of the final man.

"No, don't," he begged, collapsing to the floor in fear. "I'm just a chemist."

"A chemist?" Max asked with wry amusement. "The only chemistry you understand is how to make drugs. There are precious few chemists in this city making medicines, why not try out being one of them? No, you'd rather make stuff that kills people, wouldn't you? Do you honestly expect to get any sympathy from me?"

"Don't kill me," the man pleaded.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you," Max assured him. _After all, it does no good for my reputation if I either kill all these people or knock them unconscious before they can see me._ "I'll leave you alive, but you bring Cameron Dean a message for me," Max growled viciously.

"Sure, sure, anything," the man agreed.

"Tell him Justice has decided that his life is forfeit," Max stated evenly. Then, with one fluid motion, she sent her right foot into a powerful kick into the man's right leg, splintering his tibia and causing shards of bone to pierce his skin in a compound fracture. "There, you've received your sentence," Max said, ignoring the chemist's cry of pain and turning to finish off the guards. By the time she walked out of the warehouse, the sentries had all organized themselves again and were preparing to search for any intruders. Unfortunately for them, however, no one expected her to come from inside the building. Max was a trained soldier, and they were no more than thugs that served as hired muscle. They never stood a chance.

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To be continued.............................


	6. Way of the Warrior, Part 5

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

****

V

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Adapt yourself to the environment in which your lot has been cast, and show true love to the fellow-mortals with whom destiny has surrounded you. – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations.

Max had settled down a great deal by the time she reached Crash. Of course, the fast motorcycle ride and the long, hot shower had helped a lot. She almost felt out of place as she walked into the bar, having set aside her singed, blood-stained ninja outfit and black cloak in favor of a red tank-top, black leather pants, and black boots.

"Hey, Boo," Original Cindy said with a wide smile as soon as she saw Max walk in. "Where you been at lately? None of us has seen you in, like, forever."

"I've been around," Max replied evasively. "You know, not working at Jam Pony has been pretty good for me, though. It's keeping me busy."

"I'll bet," Original Cindy replied. "I heard a strange rumor the other night, you know. Something about a short woman that moved like the wind and had a nasty habit of leaving crippled drug dealers in her wake."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Max said evenly, motioning for the bartender to bring her a drink. "I haven't been out on the streets enough to hear stuff like that."

"Of course you haven't," Cindy commented.

"Hey, Max, how are you?" Sketchy said as he walked up to the two women. I haven't seen you in awhile."

"Seems like a common problem," Max replied with a forced smile. _What's wrong with me?_ Max wondered. _I used to love coming here, spending time with my friends. Now it almost seems like a chore._

"Hey, Herbal just took off, and I need a partner for the next game," Sketchy said, pointing toward a new pool table in the back corner. "You feel up to it, Max?"

"Sure," she said with a smile, deciding that as long as she was going to continue to try to be social, she might as well do the job right. "You comin' along?" she asked Cindy.

"Of course," her friend answered.

"Seriously, though, I know what you're thinking," Max said as soon as Sketchy had proceeded out of earshot. "It's not what you think."

"Are you sure?" Cindy asked. "It sounds like you've gone a little postal."

"It's not like that," Max said, making certain she flashed the happiest smile she could muster. "It's just that I figure I owe it to the people of the city to do whatever I can to make things better."

"Like Logan does," Original Cindy said.

"Exactly," Max said, surprised at how much more easily the smiles were coming. "He has his way, and I have mine."

"Whatever you say, Boo," Cindy replied. "I can't even pretend I know what it's like to be you. As long as you say you've got it under control, though, I'm fine with whatever you do. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do," Max said pleasantly. "I know you're just a pain in my ass because you care so much."

"Oh great," an unfamiliar voice commented. "See, I told you she was another dyke." Max turned to face whoever was speaking, and was forced to look up in order to meet the eyes of a very large, very hairy man that she had never seen before.

"Excuse me?" she asked evenly, doing her best to intimidate the man. Her efforts only seemed to amuse him, however.

"I was just telling my friend here that I'd like to bone ya," the man answered, "but then I heard you talking all sweet to your rug-muncher friend. I have to tell ya, doll... it's a little disappointing."

"Not as disappointing as the feeling of having your teeth knocked out is gonna be," Max threatened, straightening herself up as much as possible, but only coming up to the man's shoulders.

"No, let's go, Max," Original Cindy interjected, her voice walking a fine line between asking and demanding. "He isn't worth it."

"Honey, you wouldn't know what I'm worth," the man shot back. "See, your problem is that you're playing for the wrong team. You should try out driving stick."

"Oh, that's it," Max snarled. In a flash of motion she had kicked the man in the knee, sending his large body toppling to the beer-covered floor. Before anyone could even react, she was straddling the man, punching him repeatedly in the face. He began to swing his arms wildly, and finally connected, knocking Max off of him and back onto the floor. He quickly stood to his feet once again, and Max rose to meet him.

"No!" Cindy shouted.

Max ignored her friend, however, and grabbed a beer bottle from the tabletop next to her. In one fluid motion she smashed it against the table, leaving a jagged glass weapon in her slender hands. "What the hell?" the man muttered. "You're crazy."

"Apologize," Max demanded.

"And if I don't?" he asked.

"Then I cut your balls off," Max threatened. The man's face went a shade paler, and Max became dimly aware that the bar had gone silent and every face was turned in her direction.

"He's just drunk, Max," Cindy said. "He didn't mean anything by it. He's just jealous is all, aren't you?" she asked the man.

"That's right," the man agreed, appearing to have finally had his adrenaline temporarily counteract the alcohol in his system. His sense of judgment had immediately improved. "I just think your friend is fine, that's all," he stammered. "I feel bad that she won't ever give me the time of day, since she's, you know, all into girls and stuff. I only meant it all as a compliment. No offense, really. I'm sorry."

"Fine," Max replied, dropping the broken bottle. Within moments one of the bouncers had walked over and demanded that she leave. Max only nodded and walked out, followed closely by Original Cindy.

"You know, I'm willing to believe just about anything you say, but I don't think you got it under control, Boo," she said.

"I'm fine," Max growled.

"You just threatened to cut a man's balls off," Cindy shot back.

"He deserved it," Max retorted.

"For calling me a lesbian?" Cindy asked. "He's right, I am. It's no insult."

"He didn't call you a lesbian," Max pointed out. "He was far more offensive than that."

"What he did only merited a couple of sharp words, not castration," Original Cindy said incredulously. "I'm serious, Max, I don't think you got this under control. You better figure yourself out fast, though, 'cause these games you're playin' at'll get you killed. Give me a call if you need anything, ok?"

"Fine," Max shot back, walking away as quickly as possible. Within moments she was back on her motorcycle and racing across town to the small apartment that she had gotten from Rory. _To hell with the leather pants and tank-tops,_ she decided. _I have responsibilities, now. Justice can't take breaks and go drinking with friends. I took on a full-time job, and I guess I'd better stick at it. It's back to the streets for me._

To be continued.............................


	7. Way of the Warrior, Part 6

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

****

VI

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Because a thing is difficult for you, do not therefore suppose it to be beyond mortal power. On the contrary, if anything is possible and proper for a man to do, assume that it must fall within your own capacity. – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations.

Logan typed away on his keyboard, beginning to wonder if there was anyone that knew anything about the vigilante named Justice. He had already hacked into the Seattle Police Department, the Seattle District Attorney's Office, every local paper, and City Hall. No one seemed to be gathering any information on Justice's activities, which only made Logan that much more suspicious. He had already heard from three police officers that the force had begun looking into the matter, but thus far there was no sign that the task force had uncovered any information. It was beginning to get discouraging.

He tried to think of anyone else in the city that might know something about Justice, but decided that he needed to take at least a short break in order to clear his head. Working for over twelve hours at a time would fog up the clearest mind, and he was not going to do any good in his present condition. Logan wheeled himself out into the kitchen and went over to the refrigerator, opening it and immediately settling his eyes upon the two racks of ribs that he had ordered a month earlier. He planned to make them the main course in a wonderful dinner for Max, but now he was becoming more and more concerned that she would get herself killed before he had a chance to prepare his small feast.

The phone began to ring as he reached in to get a chilled bottle of Strawberry Yoo-hoo, and Logan immediately spun his wheelchair around and grabbed the cordless on the counter, hoping it would be Max. He had to make a point of inviting her over sometime soon, before the ribs went bad.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Logan," Detective Lane's voice said from the other end of the line. "I think I might have a lead for you on that vigilante Eyes Only is interested in."

"What have you got?" Logan asked excitedly, already reaching for a pen and a small pad of paper.

"There was a huge shootout last night at a drug lab someone set up in an old warehouse," Lane explained. "A bunch of people got killed, but there're a few that survived. One of them is apparently an eye-witness that got a pretty good look at the guy."

"How good a look?"

"Seems this Justice guy got close enough to cave in our suspect's sternum," Lane answered. "I hear that Justice was wearing some kind of black cloak that hid his face, but you could at least get something."

"So is he talking?"

"Well, he already spilled his guts to our task force as part of a plea bargain, but I'll bet he'd talk to you, too."

"Why's that?" Logan asked.

"Well, seems the guy wants to be some kind of infamous super-criminal that's always making headlines," Lane explained, his tone making it clear that he didn't see the point any more than Logan himself did. "He's probably seen too many of the old pre-Pulse gangster movies or something. Anyway, if you promise to get his name out there and help him get some kind of bad-ass rep, I'm sure he'll play ball."

"Great," Logan muttered. "So where can I find him?"

"Mercy Hospital, Room 211," Lane answered. "There are a couple of police guards, but I'll tell them you're going over. Give 'em each a hundred bucks and they'll probably give you a half-hour with the guy."

"Thanks," Logan said. "I'm heading over there right now." He hung up the phone and grabbed his keys off of the counter, not bothering to put on a jacket as he headed for the door. He simply hoped he would get something useful, something that could help him end Justice's personal war and thus help protect Max.

------------------------

After ten minutes with Cesar Alfonzo, Logan had already decided that all he was really likely to get was a ghost story he might be able to tell his nieces and nephews someday. Despite his disappointment, though, he had Cesar repeat his story again, hoping that this time he would be able to get a little more detail.

"So you were in the lab working," Logan prompted, bringing a smile to Alfonzo's face.

"Thas right, man," Cesar answered. "I was in there making the drugs, like I always do. I'm really good, y'know? Cameron Dean always comes to me when they's have problems with production."

"That's great," Logan replied, deciding to stroke Alfonzo's ego a slight bit. "So everything was going fine before the explosion? There was no sign that you were about to get hit?"

"No, nuttin," Cesar confirmed with a wide grin, apparently pleased with the portrayal of his role in Cameron Dean's criminal operations. "There I was, you know, workin' on the dryin' pans, and all of a sudden one of the windows blows into the place and the floor shakes, you know?" Logan nodded. "So's I tell the guards to get ready, that someone is prob'ly gonna come in and start shooting up the place."

"And that's when the guy came in?" Logan continued.

"Yeah, he like, appeared outta nowhere," Cesar said, his face paling a bit as he retold the story. Logan was pleased with the fact that he was able to at least conclude that Alfonzo had truly been frightened. Everything else about his depiction of the attack seemed questionable, though. "So he comes in, kicking the door off its hinges, and he's all like, 'I'm gonna kill all of you, real slow, like.' Then he glared at me. I guess he musta known I was in charge or somethin'. Then he started kicking the guards around, movin' like the wind and throwin' them around like they was rag dolls and all."

"Of course," Logan commented. "Now how big did you say he was?"

"He was like, maybe six and a half feet tall," Cesar answered. _And of course, just a few minutes ago Justice was apparently at least 6'10". This has got to be complete bull._

"So you told your men to kill him," Logan continued.

"Yeah, I told 'em to whack the guy, but Justice, man, he just like leapt into the air and pulled out a sword."

"A sword," Logan interrupted, making a note that apparently Justice's weapon could have been either a quarterstaff or a sword, depending on which time Cesar was telling the story. He wondered how many times he would have to listen to the tale before he would hear that Justice had come in with a rocket launcher.

"Yeah, he had a sword," Cesar said with a nod. "It was like he was toyin' with us or somethin'. He kept whacking my boys in the head with the flat part of the blade, you know?" Again, Logan nodded, though he stopped taking notes and instead began writing a grocery list of things he would need to go with the baby back ribs in his refrigerator. "Yeah, and I picked up a metal rod from the floor, and I started going at it with the guy, but then I slipped on some pills that had spilt, and then he punched me in the chest."

"I see. Then what happened?"

"Then he takes his sword and cuts Rico across the throat, and just laughs at him while he dies."

"He laughed?" Logan asked as he made a note to get a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

"Yeah, he laughed, and then she spat on him," Cesar said.

"Wait a second," Logan said suddenly, taking his eyes off his notepad and driving his gaze into the back of Cesar's eyes. "Did you say 'she'?"

"What?" Cesar asked.

"_She_ spat on him?"

"No, _he_ spat on him," Cesar replied.

"No, you said _she_."

"I said _he_."

"No, you didn't," Logan replied. "I was listening to you the whole time."

"Why would I say it was some dude that came in there if it was really some bitch?" Cesar asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Logan replied. "Maybe you just figured it would be bad for your rep if people found out a woman put you in the hospital."

"It wasn't a woman, man, y'know? I mean it, man."

"I think I've heard enough," Logan said, ignoring Cesar's surprised expression as he wheeled himself toward the door, trying to suppress the increasing feeling of nausea in his stomach. _Justice is a woman._ He could hardly believe it. Part of him kept repeating over and over that Cesar had really just misspoken, that Justice was a man. In his heart, though, Logan knew it wasn't true. He knew as soon as he heard the word 'she' that he was really looking for a woman. The logical inference of that knowledge is what really put him on edge.

_It couldn't be,_ he tried telling himself. _Max isn't like that. She couldn't do those things._ No sooner had he tried to convince himself than another voice in his head pointed out facts that he had always known, but had been afraid to face. _She was genetically engineered to be a killer,_ he reminded himself. _She was raised from birth in a brutal environment where might made right. You can't really believe that something like that wouldn't be traumatic. You're always brooding about how your father was an elitist snob who wanted nothing more than to instill the same attitude in you. Well, **her** 'father' was a borderline sociopathic soldier hell-bent on making Max and her siblings into more dangerous versions of himself. You can't seriously believe she isn't carrying around some serious emotional baggage._

Once he was outside the hospital again, Logan took several deep breaths, hoping the cool air would somehow bring him to his senses, as if he had been delusional up until that point. It didn't work. Logan knew in his gut that Max was Justice. He had no evidence, and could not even think of how it had happened, but he trusted the instincts he had always had, and which had only gotten more acute after he had become a journalist.

_I need proof before I can really believe it,_ he decided. _I can't even confront her until I know for certain._ Somehow he knew, though, that his search for information would start to get easier. Now he had a better idea of what to look for. Now he knew that the target of his search was his closest friend in the world.

__

To be continued.............................


	8. Way of the Warrior, Part 7

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

****

VII

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It is sufficient to estimate the enemy situation correctly and to concentrate your energy to capture him. There is no more to it than this. – Sun Tzu, The Art of War.

Max walked along the rain-slicked roof of the old warehouse slowly, allowing the thumping of the bass from inside to leak into her soul. The music from the rave down below was intense, and as she focused on it, she became more on edge with every passing second. She ran through the plan again, once more questioning her judgement in undertaking such a public display. Roughing up street level dealers in an alley was one thing, but breaking up a rave to get at some of her informants was something else entirely. Unfortunately, though, Dave and Tex had left her little choice. _They must have had an uncomfortable bout of conscience,_ she decided. She doubted that either of her informants had expected her to go to Cameron Dean's lab and kill more than half of the people in the place.

_Well, what did they think was gonna happen?_ she wondered. Both of the small-time hoods had kept to wide open areas since their last conversation with Max, and since the attack on the warehouse the night before, both Dave and Tex had made certain they were always surrounded by plenty of people. In addition, they were always looking over their shoulders. _They know I'll be coming to have another chat with them. I'll bet they never expected I would do something like this._

Walking over to the skylight, Max looked down into the chaotic fray below. Blacklights and strobe lights provided most of the illumination, with a couple of dim standard lights set up by the bar. People below were dancing and bouncing around to the beat of the music, some of them forming small would-be mosh pits in two of the far corners. The attendees to this particular rave seemed to vary in age from thirteen to thirty, and Max noted immediately that even from her position it was obvious that many of the older people below were armed. _They're probably hired security of some kind,_ she decided. _Or they could be muscle hired by the dealers that were supplying the all too sought after drugs._

One deep breath to steel her resolve was all Max needed, and she then went to work setting up a small charge in the center of the pane of glass. Once that was done, she took a few steps away to a safe distance, and then pushed the remote detonator. The pop of the explosion was muffled by the suddenly intense bass beat that escaped into the open night air. Seconds later screams started to also erupt from below. Without a second's hesitation, Max pulled her hood up tightly over her head and leapt through the shattered skylight, falling twenty feet onto the shoulders of one of the armed guards.

To her surprise, many of the guards reacted far more quickly than she had expected. They were still too slow to keep up with her genetically enhanced reflexes, though. Max worked through the crowd like a whirling dervish, incapacitating one guard after another and shoving young ravers out of her way with ease. She had been inside for almost a minute when she saw Dave and Tex finally catch sight of her and realize what was happening. They immediately began pushing through the increasingly panicked crowd trying to escape through the doors. The music continued to blast and the strobe lights continued to flash, helping to disorient anyone that still tried to stand in Justice's way. Out of the corner of her eye, Max caught sight of a teen wearing a black baseball cap with a bright silver 'X' embroidered on it. Figuring he was one of the dealers, she stopped just long enough to shatter his jaw and nose, sending him crumpling to the floor. Then she moved on.

Dave and Tex had almost escaped into the night when Max grabbed them both by the scruff of the neck and pulled them back inside. By that point many of the people had already fled, leaving Justice alone with her informants.

"Where is he?" Max shouted over the music. Both Tex and Dave looked at her with baffled expressions, and she put her face right up to theirs. "Where is he?" she repeated.

"Who?" Tex asked. Max's only response was to grab his forearm in both hands and snap it. The criminal immediately wailed in agony, and Dave's face went several shades paler as Max turned a vicious stare on him.

"I'm short on patience tonight," she hissed. "Tell me where Cameron Dean is, and I'll let you walk out of here right now. If you don't, well....."

"He's still in the same place," Dave shouted in reply. "I already told you where he lives."

"I went by there, and the place was deserted," Max shot back. "I don't like being jerked around." She noticed that Tex had regained a modicum of composure as he sat against the wall, holding his broken arm with his other hand. Max kicked his arm for good measure, causing him to shriek in response. Within moments, he had passed out from the pain.

"He's there, I swear," Dave answered. "He's in the basement."

"The basement?" Max growled. "You didn't say anything about a basement."

"He just moved downstairs two nights ago," Dave said quickly. "Apparently he's becoming concerned about some vigilante taking him out. Go fig."

"Oh really?" Max asked, fairly satisfied that her reputation was getting out. "So what can you tell me about the place?"

"Not much," Dave whimpered, cradling his knees in a tight hug as he cast a terrified look at his interrogator. "I know it's got traps, and his best guards are in there. I heard he's hoping you'll come after him. He had Special Forces guys set up his defenses. It's supposed to be impregnable to a single attacker. They say you'd need an entire platoon to go in there and get him out."

"I seriously doubt that," Max muttered, her voice suddenly booming in the room as the music cut off. "Take my advice, Dave, and leave town for awhile. I don't think you want me to set my eyes on you again anytime soon."

"Uh, sure," Dave replied as he slowly stood. He looked down at his unconscious friend, and then back at Max.

"You should probably get him to a hospital," she advised. "It'll be hard enough to set that arm properly even if a professional is doing the job. He'll never be able to use it right again if he tries to get one of those street docs to do the job for him."

"Yeah, sure," Dave answered.

Max's ears perked up as she heard the fast-approaching sound of police sirens, and she immediately bolted toward the exit. She knew she would easily elude the authorities, which meant she would certainly have the chance to prepare to hit Cameron Dean's home. She would wait until the next night, and then eliminate him and his people all at once.

------------------------

Max walked into her spacious apartment and picked up her beeper from its place on the coffee table. Logan had called again. And again. And again. Seven calls, all within the past three hours. Max wondered what could possibly be so important. _He probably needs me to do a job for him,_ she decided. _It's just gonna have to wait._

Max still hated putting off Logan as much as she ever had, perhaps even more now that she had taken up the role of vigilante. Part of her felt very strongly that they were kindred spirits, each one undertaking the Herculean task of making the world a better place. It was a tough job, but Max had decided that somebody had to do it. _If not me, then who?_

She slipped out of her heavy black cloak and stripped off her tunic, enjoying the feeling of the cool air that passed over her bare arms and shoulders and breathed in through her light tank-top. She liked how the billowing, all-black ensemble helped make her seem larger and more intimidating to her prey, but as spring began to settle in more firmly and the nights became warmer, it slowly became more uncomfortable to wear several layers of clothes. _Maybe I should have been like Batman and just stuck to a simple cape,_ she mused. _Or maybe I could just switch to wearing a black t-shirt with a skull on it._ The thought brought a smile to her face. She was actually living the life of a comic-book hero, and brought as much fear of retribution into the hearts of real people as Batman ever had into the hearts of his fictional foes.

She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a chilled bottle of strawberry Yoo-hoo, smiling once again when she remembered Logan introducing her to the drink. She had been skeptical when Logan had told her that Yoo-hoo, which tasted eerily similar to strawberry milk, somehow had a shelf life of about five hundred years. Then again, if modern science could create a trans-genetically-engineered super soldier, then why not also make 'milk' that could last years at room temperature without going bad.

As she chugged her drink she picked up her stereo's remote and switched on the cd player, allowing the machine to randomly select a song to play. Logan had made all of the discs for her, and she knew the music would be far more mellow than the intense rave tunes that still pounded in her head. A grin spread across her lips as England Dan and John Ford Coley's "I'd Really Love to See You Tonight" started playing softly. _Yep, that's certainly different than the other stuff,_ Max thought.

She sat on the plush couch and slipped out of her tobi boots, taking a moment to look at the traces of red nail polish that had all but disappeared from her toenails. _I guess I've been letting the little things go while I've been working,_ she pondered. She walked into the bedroom and picked up a bottle of nail polish remover and lime colored nail polish, deciding she wanted a silly color for a change. _I can't be a bad-ass vigilante all the time,_ she decided, reversing the decision she had made after leaving Crash. Original Cindy had started to get Max to pay attention to the little things – the details – and now Max found herself as wrapped up in getting her nails done right as much as any other woman her age. _Damn, Original Cindy,_ Max thought, suddenly remembering the unpleasant chain of events at Crash. _I'll have to call and apologize to her. I should also call Logan_.

Without waiting at all to talk to her friend, she picked up the phone and dialed Logan's number. "Max," he said immediately, his voice bringing a smile to her face despite his surprisingly serious tone. "Where have you been?"

"Out and about," Max said evasively, noticing that Logan's voice contained not only the normal curiosity, but also a tinge of concern. _He's probably still worried that I'll run into Justice or something,_ she decided.

"And what are you doing now?" he asked.

"I'm painting my nails," she said with a smile. "I think I'm gonna go with lime green, but that might be a little obnoxious. Do you think red would be better?"

"No, the green is fine," Logan said. Max could tell her friend was smiling. "What are you listening to?" he asked.

"One of those discs you gave me," Max replied. "Right now it's that "Time in a Bottle" song. You know, you were right, this old music isn't half-bad sometimes. I really think it could use a little mixing though, maybe throw in some bass or something, but mellow is good once in awhile."

"Yeah," Logan agreed. "Look, do you want to come over or something?"

"Ah, no, I don't think so," Max said as apologetically as she could. "I'm sorta tired."

"You're going to sleep?" Logan asked.

"I didn't say that," Max responded with a smile. "I only said I was tired. There's a big difference."

"Of course," Logan said.

"So what do you need?" Max asked.

"Oh, nothing, really," Logan answered.

"You called seven times tonight, and you don't need anything?"

"I just wanted to hear your voice," Logan answered. "I wanted to know you were doing alright." A warm wave of something washed over Max, and she wondered at the sensation. It was not something she felt often, though she knew she should have come to expect it from Logan. He always made her feel special, and she adored how he truly cared about her.

"I'm doing just fine," she assured him. "How about you?"

"Well, I've been busy lately," he said. "Doing lots of research."

"You need any help?" Max offered. "I should have some free time in a couple of days."

"No," Logan said evenly. "This is something I have to look into on my own." A moment of silence followed, and Max knew that Logan was debating whether or not to ask her something. "Would you like to come over for dinner sometime?"

"When?"

"Day after tomorrow?" Logan suggested. "I'll need until then to get the ingredients together."

"Ooh, something special?" Max asked, leaning back and smiling as "Dust in the Wind" started playing. "I can hardly wait."

"So you're coming?"

"Absolutely," Max replied. "I wouldn't miss it."

"Great," Logan said. He was smiling again. "That'll give us a chance to talk," he added, and Max knew that with those words, the smile had vanished. Something was bothering Logan, and he didn't want to talk about it on the phone. Max hated the thought that her closest friend was keeping secrets from her. _Oh, but it's ok for you to keep secrets from him?_ a voice asked from the back of her mind, calling her to task for her hypocrisy.

"I can't wait to see you," she said, and then hung up the phone. Sitting alone, listening to the Beatles singing about Yesterday, Max suddenly began to realize, for the first time, just how much her life had changed recently. She didn't particularly mind the violence in which she was involved, but she greatly missed the friendships she had had. She knew that if she continued down this road, that her life would alter even more. Eventually, things would never be the same, and she would end up alone. For the first time, she began to wonder if that kind of a price was worth paying.

__

To be continued.............................


	9. Way of the Warrior, Part 8

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

****

VIII

__

. . . Therefore when armies are raised and issues joined it is he who does not delight in war that wins. – Tao Te Ching.

A loud knocking from the front door woke Logan with a start, and he gazed with groggy eyes at the computer screen in front of him. Once again he had fallen asleep in his chair in the middle of work. It was becoming a nasty habit. "Hold on," Logan muttered as he undid the brakes that had locked him in place. The knocking resounded through the apartment once again. "I said hold on," he yelled, far more loudly.

He wheeled himself through the apartment quickly, making full use of the dim pre-dawn light that was filtering in through the windows. He could hardly guess at who was at his door. Usually, at such an early hour, he would only have ever expected Max, but she would never have bothered to knock. He finally reached the door and swung it open slowly, immediately hearing Original Cindy's voice.

"It's about time you got your ass in motion and opened that door," she said evenly.

"I was asleep," Logan explained, no hint of an apology in his tone. "What can I do for you?"

"It's about Max," Cindy explained. "Though I figured you woulda guessed that much by now."

"That much I did. Specifically, what is it that made you come here at sunrise?"

"My girl's got some issues goin' on right now," she said, walking casually over toward the kitchen. "You happen to have any coffee?"

"Yeah, in the silver canister," Logan directed. "So what do you think is going on?"

"Dunno for sure," Cindy replied, opening the canister and searching for the coffeemaker. "She just seems a little... darker, or something. I think that's the only way to explain it."

"Yeah, I noticed," Logan said, his stomach starting to tighten up. Part of him had wanted to believe that the changes he saw in Max were actually a figment of his own imagination, brought on by his ever-increasing anxiety. His conversation with Max the night before had done a lot to ease his nerves and quell his suspicions, but now he was faced with Max's only other close friend in the world raising similar concerns. "What exactly is it that sticks out ion your mind?" he asked, fidgeting in his wheelchair to get comfortable.

"Well, we were at Crash last night, and she completely put the smack down on some uppity jackass," Cindy explained. "Now I know it's not unusual for her to get a little rough from time to time, but I've never seen her threaten a guy with castration."

"She what?"

"Oh, and my girl meant it, too," Cindy added. "No doubt about it. There was a strange look in her eye, Logan. I figured you might know something about what's goin' on."

"I don't know anything for sure," Logan said, "but I have some suspicions."

"Such as?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Logan muttered in reply. Silence followed for a long while as Logan sat completely motionless and Cindy began brewing a pot of coffee. When it was ready, Cindy poured herself a cup and stood leaning against a counter, staring at her host.

"She's in trouble, isn't she?" Cindy finally asked, breaking the stillness with a suddenness that startled Logan.

"I think so," he confirmed. "I don't know if either of us can help her, though. There's just something inside her that she has to deal with on her own."

"You mean like her own inner demons or somethin'?"

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Logan answered.

"Sorry if this is too personal or anything, but what exactly is it between the two of you?"

"I don't know," Logan admitted. "I used to think I had a clue, but I don't anymore. I really have no idea. I can't even be sure what Max is." His heart sank as he said the words he had kept bottled up since his conversation with Cesar. Once again his instinct had risen up within him and declared that Max was Justice. He knew better than to second-guess himself. _So what if Max was all normal and stuff when I talked to her last night?_ he asked himself. _If she's the one that's been going around causing all this chaos, then I truly don't know her anymore._ Then a disturbing new thought occurred to him – _do I report on her? I am Eyes Only, after all. Justice is a person worthy of a story. Can I honestly keep this under wraps just because I happen to have feelings for the subject of my report? How could I do that and still claim journalistic integrity?_

Logan's mind began to swim with the problem. If he held back the report, he would wonder if he did so because Max was a friend. On the other hand, if he did the report, was it because it was a worthwhile story, or because he simply had to prove to himself that he would report on anything that had an impact on the city, whether or not there was a personal tie. _This is all irrelevant, anyway. I don't know for sure, with objective evidence, that this really is Max. All I have now is gut instinct, and that's not good enough for Eyes Only to step in yet._

"Are you ok, Logan?" Cindy asked.

"Yeah, sure," he replied. "I have some work to do, ok? You can let yourself out whenever you're ready to go."

"Thanks," Cindy replied. "Oh, and Logan-"

"Yeah?"

"Let me know if you need any help with Max, aiight? I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to her."

"Sure," Logan said. "Oh, and leave at least one cup of coffee for Bling, ok?"

"No problem," she shot back coolly. "Original Cindy ain't about drinkin' all her friend's sugar daddy's Joe." Logan could only smile in response, despite the confusion and misery in his head. He couldn't help but wonder, though, about just what it was that Max was up to, and what she would do when this new day ended, and the next night began.

__

To be continued.............................


	10. Way of the Warrior, Part 9

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

IX 

_In peace nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility; but when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, disguise fair nature with hard favour'd rage. . .– William Shakespeare, Henry V._

Max walked along Pine Street with the curiosity of a tourist, holding her 35mm camera in one hand and a Seattle tour guide in the other.Every couple of minutes she would stop and take some pictures of random buildings and sights.Finally, she reached her true destination – Cameron Dean's home.Once the rather pricey Inn at the Market, the building had been gutted and rebuilt to suit the needs of its previous owner – the criminal kingpin Norton Koch.One guard stood outside, and had already set his eyes on her.Max stopped and smiled as she took a couple of pictures of the building.

"Hey, why don't you get moving along?" he suggested.

"It's a nice building," Max commented.

"Yeah, it is, now take off," the guard replied gruffly.

"Is that a home for just one person or something?" Max asked sweetly, tilting her head slightly to seem as innocent as she could muster.With the way she spent her nights, she felt it was more difficult every day to appear anything remotely approaching either sweet or innocent.

"Leave," the man answered.

"Jeez, fine," Max replied."I was just curious, is all."

"And why's that?" the guard asked."This place a stop on your tour or something?"

"No, it's just that it isn't the house that caught my eye," Max said with a seductive grin._So I can't play innocent anymore... maybe I don't have to.The guard caught her meaning immediately and took a few steps toward her._

"So, just what is it you want?" he asked.

"Maybe a local who really knows where the most fun places are," Max suggested."I bet the guy who lives here is really rich, so that would mean you're probably the best guard money can buy.Seattle can be a dangerous place, ya know?You think you could maybe show me around and protect me at the same time?"

"I think I could manage that," the guard replied with the smile of a man who was obviously feeling more confident that he would get some.

"So when do you get off duty?" Max asked, shuffling her feet slightly to try to make it seem she was a little shy about being so forward.She knew the guard would like that.

"Ten o'clock," the man answered._I can't believe you just told me when the shift change occurs, Max thought with amusement.She never ceased to be amazed at how easy it was to manipulate a man with just the possibility of sex._

"So where do you want to meet me?" Max asked.

"There's a bar called The Pike Pub and Brewery just a couple of blocks down 1st Ave, right by Union," the guard answered."That would be perfect, I think.Make sure you wear something _nice_."

"Great," Max purred."I'll see you a little after ten."Her lips spread into a wide, though forced, smile.

"I look forward to it," the guard replied as he turned and walked back toward the building.As soon as he back was turned, Max started clicking away with her camera._Five stories, mostly wood construction, barred windows... and somewhere in there is a hidden entrance to a fortified basement.She turned and began to walk away as a plan formed in her mind._

_Well, there's no way in hell I'm gonna go in there without a clue as to the layout.No one seems to be talking, either.So if I'm not going in, I'll have to get them to come out.But how do you get someone to want to come out of a heavily fortified basement when they're expecting to be attacked?She walked several blocks, turning the idea over and over, until she formed a wicked grin as a solution came to her._

------------------------

Max checked her watch quickly – 9:30.She had half an hour until the shift change occurred, and likely only fifteen minutes before the next crew started to show up.In the next fifteen minutes, the guards that were presently working would be about as bored and inattentive as they were likely to get during their shift.This was the best time to make her preparations.

She looked across the uncharacteristically wide alley from her rooftop over to the top of Cameron Dean's building, and noted that he did not even have a rooftop sentry posted.It seemed strange, until she remembered Dave saying that Dean had been hoping that Justice would try to hit him.Apparently, the expectation was that by thinning the outer defenses and bringing her in closer, they would be able to strike back more effectively._Dollars to donuts it's a lot harder to get out of there than it is to get in, Max decided.__I'll bet it's easy to enter through the roof, and that there are a few traps here and there throughout the building.I probably wouldn't meet any resistance until I reached the basement.Then, if they didn't take me out right away, I would have to go all the back up through the place before I could leave, since all the windows are barred.Not a bad plan, actually.Too bad I have something else in mind._

She leapt to Cameron Dean's roof, and then fastened her rappelling harness to a rope and silently lowered herself down the side of the building.As she went, she attached a few charges to the outside of the windows.Two minutes was all it took, and she was back on the roof of the building next-door and running away, hoping to get across the street unnoticed.By the time the first guards started showing up for their shift, Max was on the opposite rooftop, watching everything through the scope of her Barret 82A1 .50 Cal sniper rifle.The weapon was old, but certainly trustworthy.Three police cruisers drove past during the next five minutes, and Max decided that the cops had been alerted to the fact that Cameron Dean expected to be hit by the city's newest vigilante.They appeared to have been paid to want a piece of the action.

Max glanced to her side, making certain that her M-203 grenade launcher and all of her detonators were ready for use.They were.The minutes passed slowly, and Max spent the time alternately counting off the guards, and trying to get a song out of her head.While listening to some of Logan's old music, she had heard a song called 'Time in a Bottle.'Now the tune kept repeating in her mind, and she couldn't shake it off.The song made her think about Logan, and the ambiguous relationship that the two of them shared._Why is this even bothering me? she wondered.__What's the big deal?Why am I thinking about Logan right now, anyway?She pondered the matter briefly, and then decided that the same part of her that was concerned about her recent decisions and actions was becoming more vocal.Something inside her wanted to stop living as Justice.__Too much goddamned duality in my life, she decided.__Max wants to stop and settle down and be normal, I guess.Justice wants to keep fighting.It seemed strange to Max to lie on a rooftop, gazing through a scope as she pondered the inner workings of her psyche.__But if not now, when? _

Max had started to fear the one event that would, as she saw it, put her just over the edge and prevent her from returning.Eventually, she knew, she would embrace the role of Justice as her primary personality, and what had been Max would die off a little more every day.She didn't want that, but at the same time she didn't want to live the simple life she had for so long._I can do so much more.Why live as a delivery girl?_

Men started to gather on the street below, and Max knew that Cameron Dean's guards were likely in the middle of the changeover._I guess it's now or never, she decided.__Although if I'm gonna walk away, I still have a chance to do so.I could just get up and leave right now.I could be at Logan's in ten minutes.We could play a game of chess.I could try to cook him dinner.... and then what?She looked again at the guards, and knew she had only moments left to decide.__Do I really want to do this?She took a few extra seconds to ponder the matter.__No, this isn't what I want to do.She continued to wait.__I want to be normal.I want to just have an ordinary life, and maybe find a place to fit in.But I can't do that, can I?She took a deep sigh.__Ah, screw it._

Her right hand flashed out and pushed the button on the first detonator, and a bright flash erupted from the side of the fourth story of the building.A moment later she pushed another button, and the third story exploded, the charge sending a spray of white phosphorous into the structure, igniting everything it touched.Another button, and a thunderous blast came from the rear of the building.There were only two exits from Cameron Dean's home, and the back door had just been cut off.Now he would have to come out the front.A fourth button ignited the fifth floor and brought a smile to Max's face._I'll bet the son of a bitch never expected a common vigilante to start using military ordnance against him._

She placed the sniper rifle at her side and picked up the M-203, firing several grenades through the front of the structure.Moments later, as she had planned, the first guards began to exit the building.Sirens could be heard from far off, and Max pressed the final two detonators in her hand.Two large explosions came to her ears from far off, engulfing two deserted theaters in flames.Each of them was dangerously close to large residential complexes, and police and firefighters in the area would have to prioritize the other fires first.That would give Max the time she needed with Cameron Dean.

Looking through the sniper rifle again, she waited for Dean to poke his head through the door.It didn't take long.He came dashing out, surrounded by four guards.With a few twitches of her right index finger, Max had removed the immediate impediments.However, firing again had revealed her location, and the remaining guards began to open up on her location.Max took a couple of extra shots, one of them hitting Cameron Dean in the leg and putting him down, but she could not risk poking her head out again._I guess I'm gonna have to go down there and finish this woman to man._

She rose to her feet and dashed to the side of the building.A quick ride down another rope and she was on street level, able to hear all of the shouting from the guards.They had been surprised, that much as certain, but they were quickly getting their act together._If Dean gets away this time, I might not get another shot for quite awhile, Max knew.It was unlikely her foes would underestimate her again._

In a flash she had run out into the street, an H&K MP-5 in each hand.Bursts of gunfire erupted from her weapons as she eliminated many of Cameron Dean's guards in the first few seconds.Max grunted briefly as she took a hit in her chest, but she knew the vest stopped any penetration.Still, her target had been firing a .45 caliber pistol.She knew the impact had probably broken, or at least bruised, one of her ribs.She returned fire and put her man down, and then ducked quickly and rolled as another man ran from the burning building, holding an AK-47 in his hand and seeming to be intent on emptying his drum clip as quickly as possible.Max took two more hits before she found cover, and this time she knew the vest had not helped her.One round had penetrated at her left shoulder.The wound was minor enough, but Max was certain her scapula had been shattered.That would require some professional attention.The second round had hit her in the left thigh, going straight through.A cursory evaluation convinced Max that she had been lucky enough to have the bullet miss her femoral artery, but the bleeding was still bad.Even worse, she was slowed down a great deal.

She could hear three men remove spent clips and reload as she examined her wounds, and Max knew she was in deep trouble._Now or never, she told herself.With as much speed as she could muster, she rose from behind the Mercedes she had been using as cover and opened up with her two MP-5's in the split second before her foes could bring their reloaded weapons back to bear.The guards were put down before they could get off a well-aimed shot, though Max knew that at least one bullet had missed her head by only inches – the unmistakable noise of the round whizzing past her head had told her that much._

All that remained was Cameron Dean, who was fighting to drag himself across the ground toward his Jeep.His own leg wound was bleeding badly, and Max could see that her .50 cal. round had all but blown the criminal's leg off.What remained was held on by only a few thin strands of flesh and sinew.Max dropped her MP-5's as she approached and drew a 9mm from the small of her back.

"If memory serves, you used a 9mm to whack your old boss, right?" Max asked as she limped toward her already defeated prey."That's how you became the man."Cameron Dean only stared at her with vacant eyes, already obviously beginning to go into shock from the loss of blood."Call me a sentimentalist if you want, but I believe in true justice.Hence my name.You put a 9mm round into your old boss' head, so I'll inflict the same punishment on you."Without another word she pulled the trigger, instantly ending Cameron Dean's life."Just be thankful I didn't decide to punish you for some of your more heinous crimes," Max muttered as she began to trot away slowly into the dark.

_To be concluded............................._


	11. Way of the Warrior, Epilogue

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

Epilogue

_The Supreme Lord said, "I am death, the mighty destroyer of the world, out to destroy. Even without your participation all the warriors standing arrayed in the opposing armies shall cease to exist." – The Bhagavad Gita, 11:32._

Logan tapped his fingers against the handle of his wheelchair, not even aware that he was doing so.He had been waiting so long to finally see Max again, and now that she was apparently on her way, he suddenly found himself nervous beyond description.The ribs were almost completely done, the sweet potato soufflé had turned out perfect, the wine was open and breathing, and everything was ready for him to immediately start the Bananas Foster for desert.All that he needed now was his overdue dinner guest._Yeah, overdue by about a week, he thought angrily.Max had never put him off for so long before, and he found the experience somewhat offensive.Their dinner had been planned and then Max had cancelled not once, or even twice, but three times.Since she hadn't called again just as Logan was ready to cook the ribs, he assumed she would be there.__I guess I'm lucky the ribs were vacuum sealed, he decided with a small grin._

No sooner had the amusing thought crossed his mind than he had pummeled it out of his head._This is not a social occasion, he reminded himself.He had some very serious things to discuss with his wayward friend.He would confront her about his suspicions that she had taken to the streets to administer justice on her own.When she admitted her role, and he was certain she would, he would try to talk her out of it.He hoped he could show her how wrong she was._

Unbidden, he once again remembered the words that had been haunting him ever since Lydecker had first spoken them._They were designed to kill.Coldly.Efficiently.And happily.All they need is a trigger.She's not the girl next door.You have no idea what she's capable of doing.Over and over those words had played themselves out in his mind, and over and over Logan had been forced to admit the truth of it.__She was at Manticore until she was about ten years old.Do you know how much of an individual's personality is forever set by the time she's ten years old?In an attempt to chase the disturbing thoughts from his mind, Logan wheeled himself quickly toward the grill in his kitchen and closely examined every inch of the ribs.Fat melted off of the bones and splattered on the heated metal, creating a wonderfully scented smoke that filled the entire apartment with the smell of barbecue.He couldn't help but smile._

A soft knock came from the door, and Logan immediately went to the door and answered it, settling his eyes on Max.The sight was more than surprising.She wore a heavy brace on her bandaged left thigh, and seemed to need a cane to get around.More surprising, though, was her left shoulder.A cast covered her arm from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder, and the arm was supported in a sling.Bandages covered her collarbone.The smile that she flashed, however, was just as warm as it had ever been.

"Hi," Max said from the doorway."You mind if I come in?"

"No," Logan said quickly, knowing he was staring but unable to tear his gaze away."Please, come on in."He moved out of the way and Max entered slowly, shuffling her feet slightly as she walked.

"So, you gonna ask what happened?" Max asked.

"Oh... yeah," Logan answered._Why ask when I'm already pretty sure? he wondered."So what happened?"_

"I took a spill on my bike," Max replied, shocking Logan with how easily she lied._Well, was it really a lie? he asked himself, finding that he still questioned whether or not his best friend had become what he was certain she had._

"Well, dinner's ready," he announced with a flourish of his hand, and Max's smile somehow grew broader.

"I was hoping you'd say that.Everything smells so good, Logan.You really outdid yourself this time."

The two friends sat down and enjoyed the meal, though conversation was rather light.Logan was afraid to jump right into the discussion he had been waiting for.He knew how much could change.Dinner ended and he made dessert, and he could almost swear he heard Max purring as she ate the flambéed bananas and ice cream.Finally, he decided it was time, and pulled out a bottle of Godiva Chocolate liqueur and poured two glasses.If this was to be his last dinner with Max, he wanted to be certain he had pulled out all the stops and made it as perfect as it could be.

"I have something important I want to talk to you about," he said as evenly as possible, working to make certain he did not hold even the hint of judgment in his voice.If Max felt he was condemning her, Logan's intervention would fail before it even got started.

"Sounds serious," Max replied.

"It is," Logan responded.Rather than speak, he simply looked his friend over, unsure as how to begin._How do you ask your best friend if she's turned into an overly zealous, murderous vigilante?_

"It's ok, Logan," Max assured him, obviously able to detect his unease."You can talk to me about anything.I thought you knew that by now."

"Are you Justice?" Logan suddenly blurted out, not knowing where he had found the courage to ask the question.Max looked like he had just punched her in the gut, and immediately Logan knew the answer.He suddenly wished he could take back the question, that he could just make things the way they had been just minutes before.

"You wouldn't ask the question if you didn't already know the answer," Max muttered."I know you well enough to know that."

"So you didn't fall off your bike, did you?" Logan asked.

"No."

"Gunshot wounds?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah."

Silence followed for several minutes after their brief exchange, as each of them looked into the eyes of the other.Logan was simply looking for any shred of remorse or guilt, but he saw none.Somehow, he felt that was worse than having her admit her role in the first place.

"Why?" Logan asked.

"Because I can," Max replied simply, as if that she didn't need to say any more.She looked at her friend, and when Logan did not say anything, she continued."I thought you of all people would understand, Logan.You sit up here broadcasting as Eyes Only.To outward appearances, you're simply Logan Cale, spoiled little rich kid.Hardly anyone knows that you use your resources and skills to help those that need it most and can't do it themselves.What I'm doing is the same thing, Logan. I was given this transgenetically engineered body along with the highest level of military training.I didn't ask for it any more than you asked for your wealth, but it's there, just the same.Don't I have a responsibility to take on my own crusade, just like you have?"

"It's not the same thing," Logan replied.

"Oh really?Why not?"

"I don't go around the city killing people," Logan answered."I don't go around passing judgment on my own.The courts exist for a reason, and like it or not, these slimeballs have a right to a fair trial."

"I don't think it's necessary," Max said, shrugging her shoulders and immediately wincing in pain.Logan guessed that Max was having trouble adjusting to the fact that the left side of her body wasn't even up to the simplest of movements.

"I disagree with you," Logan stated evenly, though he knew he had already made his opinion clear."I can't approve of your actions."

"I don't remember asking you to," Max replied coldly."It's my life, in case you hadn't noticed.I'm willing to go it alone if I have to."

"I think you're gonna have to."

"Fine."Max struggled to rise to her feet, and then she stood motionless for a moment, looking deeply into Logan's eyes."Does this mean we're to be enemies."

"We're not enemies," Logan said, trying to conceal the pain that was stabbing at his heart.He had never expected Max to be so indifferent to his plea for her to stop."We can't be allies anymore, though.Maybe we can't even be friends.I still believe in the law, and you break it every time you go out on the streets."

"I'm out there to enforce the law," Max said boldly.

"It's not your place to do that," Logan pleaded one last time, hoping he would be able to break through to his friend, but knowing even as he did so that the attempt was less than futile."The police should be doing it."

"Last time I checked, the police were as crooked as the day is long," Max shot back."Someone has to do something to make a difference.I have the ability to do so, and that creates a responsibility on my part.Like I already said, I thought you'd understand."

"I don't," Logan replied."You should probably get going."

"You're throwing me out?" Max asked.

"No," Logan answered.He sat in thought for a second, and then corrected himself."Actually, I guess I am.I'm sorry."

"Me too," Max replied.For the briefest of moments, Logan thought he saw a tear forming in the corner of Max's left eye, but he immediately decided it must have been a trick of the light.Se turned to leave, and then turned back suddenly."Are you going to report on me as Eyes Only?"

"Do you mean am I going to rat you out?" Logan asked.

"Yeah."

"No."

"Thanks."

"I'm not doing it for you," Logan answered."I'm doing it for the other X-5's, your brothers and sisters.You haven't forgotten about them, have you?If I reveal your identity, I'd also have to expose the truth of what you are.Once the general populace knew about Manticore, it would probably become harder for the others to blend into society so easily.Then Lydecker might be able to get at them.I won't allow that.On the other hand, if it gets out that I know who you are, but that I'm keeping it a secret, the few honest cops that are out there, and who give me information, will cease to help me because I'll be helping to cover the tracks of a murderer.It's a no-win situation, so I'll keep my mouth shut.At least for now."

"Well, until next time, then," Max said.

"Is there going to be a next time?" Logan asked.

"I hope so," Max said. Logan thought he did a great job of hiding his surprise at the tenderness and pain in Max's voice.For the first time in their conversation he felt as if her decision was truly tearing at her._At least there's still a bit of a conscience in there, he decided.__I guess there's hope after all._

Without another word, Max hobbled from the apartment, and Logan let her go without trying to stop her.It hurt him greatly, just as he was sure it hurt her, but both of them were devoted to their own beliefs, and both were too stubborn to consider an alternative.The same strength that allowed them to take on a lone crusade against the world also prevented them from ever being able to admit they could be wrong._Maybe Max was right.Maybe there'll be a next time someday.We've each chosen a different path in life, with me going the way of the reporter and her going the way of the warrior.I guess it's always possible that our paths might cross again._

Fin

**Author's Request: Well, I guess here is the place where I ask for reviews.I've already received some encouraging and constructive feedback, so I want to thank all those that have contributed.Just please keep it up, ok?Well, this story is wrapped up, but I could very easily continue the story of Max's journey down this path.So, for those of you that want more, rest assured that the sequel is on the way (the prologue was already almost finished before I completed this epilogue.If you're interested, it seems the title will be 'The Code of Honor,' so keep an eye out.Thanks lots, and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.**


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